My neglect has been bugging me, but honestly, I’ve not had the time to act on that niggle in the back of my mind.  I started a new job the week before Christmas, and new hours and a new location have meant that I haven’t been able to use my usual blogging time – i.e. on the train! – to write.  And I’ve not felt like putting my laptop on at home.  I look at a screen all day, and my evenings and weekends have become very precious to me.  The idea of using them to look at a computer for any longer, even to write, fills me with lethargy.

However, on Friday my first magazine at my new job went to print, and after a hectic few weeks I feel a bit more myself again!  I felt like a new start, and so thought a blogging update was in order.  I’m still following Savidge Reads and AJ Reads’ Classically Challenged, and reading along with them, but the reviews have been getting behind.  I was already behind on my reviews before I started my new job, and now my “to review” shelf is filling me with despair!  But I want my blog to be fun, not a chore (another reason why I haven’t forced myself to blog while I haven’t felt like it), so I thought that I could combine a little update with two short reviews in one.  Hopefully you won’t feel too short-changed!

Let’s start with Charles Dickens’ Great Expectations, which I read around Christmas-time.  The dramatic opening, with Pip, our narrator, encountering a convict in the marshes near his home, held my attention immediately when I first read it as an undergraduate, and it didn’t fail to do so again on a second reading.  I don’t think I really need to go into too much detail about the full plot as there are so many elements to it and it’s been well covered in plenty of other places (try here and here if you’d like more plot details) but I’d like to pick out a few of my favourite bits.

The genius of Pip’s character is that he is weak, embarrassed by his humble origins and disloyal to the people who care for him most, yet Dickens still manages to make him likeable.  He has his heart in the right place, but unfortunately he often obeys his worst instincts rather than his guilty conscience.  Although we are party to his innermost thoughts, he’s not really the strongest character – he is simply the thing which links all the other characters and around whom all the novel’s action occurs.

The legend of Miss Havisham is known even by those who have not read the book, and she really stands out.  She is an eccentric spinster, jilted on her wedding day and now years later, whether from grief, hate, spite, denial, or a mixture of reasons, she replays her wedding preparations each and every day, wearing the same dress, keeping to the same few rooms of her house, and casting her eyes over the same withered wedding feast, never cleared away.  Her adopted daughter Estella has been brought up in this bizarre setting, with the one warped goal to be to wreak Miss Havisham’s revenge on all men.

There are many twists and turns to this novel, all tied together by Pip and the numerous strong characters which shine out around him.  I couldn’t put it down, even though I knew the ending.  Great Expectations is definitely my favourite Dickens – if you’ve never read anything by him, but would like to, this has to be the one to start with.

Next up is The House of Mirth by Edith Wharton, which was January’s Classically Challenged read.  Again, I don’t really want to go into too much detail with the plot, even though this is not as well-known as Great Expectations, but you can read a longer review here.  I’ll just touch on the main aspects which drew me in.

The book is set in the late 1800s in New York.  Lily Bart is a beautiful society lady who is much-loved by those around her.  However, she a problem: she has no money of her own.  She has an allowance from her aunt, but this only gets her so far, and she is gradually building up gambling debts from playing too much bridge.  The only respectable solution is for her to marry someone rich, who will allow her to live the life she craves.  Unfortunately, while she has had plenty of suitors in her time, for one reason or another these opportunities have all fallen through, and she is now approaching her 30s: time is running out, and her success is waning.

Like Pip in Great Expectations, Lily is flawed and not always the most sympathetic of characters (her obsession with status and money can try a reader’s patience at times), but she can still be endearing and occasionally you are treated to a depth of personality which clearly goes far beyond that of her so-called friends.  This is the factor which draws her to Lawrence Seldon, and him to her.  Seldon is a lawyer who is on the borders of Lily’s society and who can observe her and her crowd from a different perspective.  There is no expectation from either of them that they will marry, as Seldon cannot give Lily the status she dreams of, so they become good friends instead and can talk frankly and honestly to each other.  Despite, or, more to the point, because of this, there is both a tension and an attraction between the two; the scenes where they meet are electric.

There is so much more to this book than I can say in a short review.  It was like an American version of Jane Austen’s novels: the details of a narrow social setting expertly observed and combined with a great storyline.  I thoroughly enjoyed it and will be seeking out more of Wharton’s novels.  I’m just surprised her books don’t have the same classic status as other writers of her era, although perhaps she is more well-known to American students than British ones?

So there you have it.  Although they’re not as long as my usual reviews, I hope these tasters were enough to make you want to go and read these fantastic books!  Next on my reading list is Thomas Hardy’s Tess of the D’Urbevilles.  I was lucky enough to win a copy from Savidge Reads (thanks Simon!) which dropped through my letterbox yesterday.  I’m very excited about reading this as I love Hardy.  I’ve never actually read Tess but I listened to it as an audiobook years ago, and I can’t wait to finally read a physical papery copy!  Although when I’ll get a review to you is another story…

So why did I buy this one?  Firstly, the fairy tale sound of the title drew me in enough to pull the book off the shelf.  Then the picture of the Dalmatian on the front cover (I can’t resist a story about animals) persuaded me to read the blurb.  Finally, once I’d discovered that the story was set in a bookshop, I was sold!

The novel focuses on Michelle and Anna, whose friendship is sealed after Pongo, Anna’s clumsy but lovable Dalmatian (whose name of course derives from 101 Dalmatians), barges into a café and results in their accidental meeting.  Michelle has just moved to the village and has opened a homewares shop, which she intends to reflect the new life she has made for herself: serene, uncluttered and perfectly polished.  However, as the novel progresses she begins to realise that the items she sells in her store, and indeed the lifestyle she has created, is only perfect on the surface, and empty and meaningless in reality.  Despite the closeness she and Anna share, she hates to talk about her past, and it’s clear that Michelle holds back a lot of her true self from her friend.

Anna, on the other hand, is quite literally an open book.  She is a genuine, warm person: a true romantic, and an avid reader.  Naïve and with her head in the clouds, she always imagined a fairy tale ending for herself, but life just isn’t that simple.  The man she fell in love with and married has been married before, and his three very different children are now living with them.  She struggles to find her place in this family – the family she has always wanted but which isn’t really hers – and the book expertly describes her valiant efforts to put everyone else first, her increasing feelings of isolation, and her deteriorating relationship with her husband, all combined with the madness of broodiness which she tries so hard to fight.

Her only salvation is her bookshop.  Here she can indulge her love of books by setting up displays, chatting nostalgically to customers, organising book clubs, and just generally absorbing the aura of the beloved paperbacks all around her.  Gradually she talks her step-children round to appreciating the power of a good novel, and even has the youngest clamouring for her nightly bedtime story.  But she struggles to get Michelle to pick up a book, much to her dismay.  Anna’s most annoying quality is one which a lot of book lovers are guilty of – treating non-readers as a challenge to be overcome by recommending book after book, sure that once they find the right book their victim friend will fall under the reading spell and be converted.

As you learn more about Michelle and watch as Anna deals with the latest family crisis, you find yourself rooting for both characters and empathising with their separate dramas.  You also feel the strongly nostalgic sense of relief each experiences each time they step into the bookshop (even Michelle), and as Anna’s customers browse through a copy of Malory Towers or a vintage Agatha Christie, they too invariably find something which was missing from their lives before.  The books may not have to power to actually solve the characters’ problems, but they do provide a respite from the pressures of the real world and allow them to indulge in the emotions they often struggle to admit out loud.  And yes, I know the idea of books having the ability to heal you sounds a bit wet, but it’s actually more of a subtle point, peeking out from behind the main stories of Anna and Michelle.

As you can probably tell from my review, I loved this book when I was merely expecting to like it.  This is a great novel for book lovers, and, as we follow the characters over the course of a year, it’s also a perfect Christmas read.

Happy new year everyone!

As regular readers will know, I’m taking part in “Classically Challenged”, the point of which is to sample some classic literature knowing that others are discovering (and delighting or suffering as the case may be) along with you.  I’m very behind in writing my review on this one as I didn’t start reading The Warden until the end of November, which means that Simon and AJ have already posted their reviews ages ago and I’m a bit late to the party.  Regardless, I still wanted to share my thoughts and prove I hadn’t actually given up the challenge!

The Warden is the first book in the series, and centres around the Reverend Septimus Harding, who is the warden of a Victorian almshouse.  The almshouse is the result of a long-dead landowner who wanted to set up a permanent shelter for old working-class men who, after a long, productive life, now find themselves in need of support.

However, whispers have begun to surface regarding the entitlement of the church to the largest share of the land and wealth of the property, the value of which has grown over the years.  The case is taken up by Mr Bold, a well-meaning gentleman with seemingly too much spare time and money on his hands.  He begins a legal battle to establish whether the warden should in fact be in receipt of an £800 a year salary for his duties, or whether this sum should be split between the men who receive shelter there.

Mr Harding is a nice man (sorry to use the “n” word but it’s the perfect description for him!) with a kind, if a little soft, temperament.  He wishes for a peaceful life and will do anything to avoid confrontation or embarrassment.  The case plunges him into an extremely public and painful predicament, and leads him to begin to doubt the wardenship he has never before questioned.  It is obvious that he is not personally taking any advantage of the men in his care, and yet his conscience cannot be completely stilled, even despite the brisk dismissal of his concerns by the Archdeacon: his fearsomely practical son-in-law.

The situation is further complicated by Mr Bold’s very genuine esteem of Mr Harding.  Mr Bold is a great believer in justice, which is why he eagerly involved himself without enough thought into this case, and yet he knows in his heart that Mr Harding personally is not really to blame.  Mr Bold is also in love with Mr Harding’s daughter, Eleanor, which of course increases his growing sense of regret about stirring up the issue in the first place.

The result is a public battle between the church and the media, and private battles fought, for different reasons, between the heads and hearts of both Mr Bold and Mr Harding.

Simon and AJ’s reviews reveal that they were positively unawed, even a little bored, by The Warden and its gentle characters.  Personally, I liked the book and enjoyed the subtleties of Trollope’s humour, but I didn’t fall in love with it, so I do understand in part where they’re coming from.

The way in which Trollope engages his readers through his narration was something I was particularly drawn to.  I can see how his technique of pointing out lots of little details might not be for everyone, but I felt it added depth to his characters, and it was the thing which won me over in the end – my only criticism there would have been that I wanted more!

I particularly responded to Mr Harding’s character: his shyness and his quirk of playing an imaginary cello when under stress is endearing, yet this is mixed with a stubborn insistence on doing the right thing.  Eleanor’s character could have been more developed (perhaps this will happen in the other books?) but I liked the simple support she offers her father without a thought to her own comfort, and I found her swift put-downs and emotional manipulation of Mr Bold to be clever.  And finally I must mention the Archdeacon – Mr Harding’s domineering son-in-law – expertly humanised by Trollope’s portrayal of him in a scene where he is wearing a night-cap and suffering his seemingly submissive wife’s nagging.

It’s interesting to see the range of reviews that this book stirs up.  A classic is regarded as a classic for a reason, of course, but that doesn’t mean you’re necessarily going to enjoy it (or that there’s something wrong with you!) just because you’re not as keen on a novel which is highly regarded.  It’s only a good book if you enjoy it!  However, for the sake of balance, I wanted to share a review with you from someone who loved The Warden: here’s Stuck In A Book’s thoughts on the novel.

AJ made the point in his review that he was disappointed with The Warden having read and loved Persuasion; he feels that Austen has the upper hand at bringing domestic situations to life.  I guess I’d have to agree, but I tend to look at this in a different way.  Jane Austen only wrote six novels.  I’ve read them all and while I can always re-read them, it’s lovely to discover something new.  Trollope provides me with a similar sort of gentle read, with a bit of safe drama that I can get lost in and forget any more serious, pressing problems.  As I say, I didn’t love The Warden, but as I’ve heard a lot of people say now that the series only gets better, I can see myself enjoying the rest.

“This is a rare book, and rare in its own time.  It is memoir, history, fiction, a documenting of filial gratitude and ingratitude, and a record of the cauldron experience of a near-fatal illness, all bundled, coherently – that’s the miracle – between covers.  And written with a white intensity that assaults the way a Southern Ocean breaker does: first, shock, then – exhilaration…

The paradox of this intensely personal, powerfully intelligent memoir is that it lets the reader through while leaving Clendinnen and the people she anatomises with their skins on and mystery intact…I am reminded of Sylvia Plath’s last poems, not because Clendinnen is derivative – she is indelibly herself – but because she, too, can extrude clarity out of chaos.”

I knew nothing about the writer and had never heard of the title, but standing dithering in the bookshop I decided that at only £1 it was worth a gamble, so I took it home.  Then I spent months not reading it and looking at its glossy black spine, questioning the impulse which had made me buy it – would I be wasting my precious reading time by even starting it?

But when I finally read it, I loved it.  Absolutely loved it.

Clendinnen is an Australian historian and has written books on a wide range of subjects, including the Holocaust, the Aztecs, and Aboriginal Australians.  This book, while describing itself as a memoir, is much, much more than that.  It would be a mistake to slide it neatly into the category of non-fiction or biography.  This is how the book begins:

“A decade ago, when I was in my early fifties, I fell ill.  ’Fall’ is the appropriate word; it is almost as alarming and quite as precipitous as falling in love.  It is even more like falling down Alice’s rabbit hole into a world which might resemble this solid one, but which operates on quite different principles. Pain, death and loneliness are domestic presences there, in grey-green masks and gloves.  So are humour and kindness, which come in all sorts of uniform.  You are granted the dubious privilege of being a child again in a place which sometimes resembles a child’s nightmare, and at others a well-run nursery.

It is also a world in which, like Alice, you are subject to unscheduled and surprising transformations.

This is not the story of a medical crisis… This is the story of what happened when I fell down my rabbit hole.”

We are first invited to share in Clendinnen’s experiences of her illness, which is getting progressively worse, and her time in hospital: sometimes tragic; sometimes comic.  Just at the point when you’re starting to feel comfortable with the way this memoir is developing, she begins to reminisce about her childhood.  Still all well and good, although you can sense a shift, as if the wind has changed direction, in how her still-sharp brain is dealing with the shock of illness.  She has turned to the past rather than the present.

Suddenly you realise that you are no longer reading about her memories, but that she is creating fiction.  I had to stop and query this, turning back the pages to check for the transition, which is so seamless I missed it.  In a brief earlier aside, Clendinnen considers the way in which our childhood memories become infused with fiction in order to plug gaps or soften blows.  Now she runs with this by inserting actual stories (true fiction?) into her memoir, rather than the fiction she realises she has created of her own childhood.

It’s fascinating reading, but you can’t dismiss the uncomfortable feeling that her mind is becoming fragmented, and increasingly disjointed, right before your eyes.  Finding an unreliable narrator outside of fiction, when memoirs and biographies are supposed to be true accounts of a person’s life, is unsettling but exciting.

This writing style won’t be for everyone as you do need to keep on your toes a little bit to follow Clendinnen’s train of thought, but I was delighted with the book.  Once you understand what she’s doing, and what she’s asking you to think about, it’s easy to follow.  I found it such a refreshing way of writing – so imaginative, so perceptive.  It’s one which would be a delight to read again at different stages of your life – the type where you discover something new to mull over every time you pick it up.

It just goes to show that you should never be afraid to try something new.  A book you’ve never heard of before might just open up a whole new world: a different genre, author, culture or historical period which you’d not previously explored, perhaps.  I’m now keen to try one of Clendinnen’s straight historical works and see if her writing there is just as good…

Judith is written by Gerald Durrell’s older brother Lawrence.  Lawrence Durrell is in fact much better-known as a writer, having published a huge range of work including novels, travel writings, poetry and plays throughout his long literary career; I just happened to chance across Gerald’s work first.  I’m glad I did, actually, as I felt as though I had already got to know Judith’s author to some degree.  I was pleased to find that the same type of humour and clever character sketches which made me warm to My Family and Other Animals were also present in this novel, even though this is a very different kind of book.

Judith was begun in 1962 as a screenplay for a film of the same name, starring Sophia Loren.  Despite being commissioned for the script, however, Durrell is not credited for his input as he distanced himself from the production before filming was complete.  The full reasons for this were unclear, but according to the introduction in my edition it appears that Durrell was “dissatisfied with the changes in the storyline made by subsequent writers”.

Film poster for Judith (Paramount Pictures, 1966)

Durrell died in 1990 and the book was never published in his lifetime.  This is the first time the novel has been brought to the public’s attention, and will be released this month.

The story, set in Palestine during the 1940s, follows two main female characters: Judith and Grete.  Both are Jewish refugees from Germany, arriving with the hope that this land, the religious home of the Jewish people, will provide their salvation.  Following the fates of these two characters opened up yet another world and history with which I was not very familiar: the conflict between the Palestinians, the native Arab people, and the newly-named Israelis, the Jews – both fighting for the land they believe is rightfully theirs.

This conflict frames the whole plot and provides the main stimulus for the novel’s action.  Don’t worry though, it’s not so political that it can’t be followed; I found the background Durrell provides to be just enough for a beginner to understand what was going on, while providing a comprehensive justification of the characters’ actions and whetting my appetite to find out more about a war still going on today.

Both Judith and Grete are brought to Ras Shamir, where the residents have toiled and worked together to build a future for themselves and their descendants.  Once swampland bought from the Arabs, they have transformed it into fertile farming land and a thriving community; now the Arabs want it back but the Jews refuse to leave what they have worked so hard for, and they are willing to defend it with their lives.

The two women, while sharing a religion and culture, could not be more different.  Judith is an intellectual; her father was a renowned physicist but was murdered before his work could be announced to the world, and Judith has been requested by name and saved from the concentration camps in order to decode her father’s life work.  She meets Aaron, a leader in the community, who irritates her from the start with his bluster and his arrogance, while he sees her as cold, stand-offish and holding too high an opinion of herself.  Unfortunately for these two fiercely independent souls, both also feel a spark of attraction for the other…

I liked Judith immediately because when we first meet her she has come through a horrific ordeal; we see the human side of her and sympathise with her plight, yet we admire her spirit in the face of adversity.  She is a survivor, and she’s quietly but obviously clever too.

There is a small but excellent part of the novel where she offers Aaron her help deciphering a troubling page of code, and he laughs at her: the very thought of a woman having a chance at such a task!  She takes the page away without another word, spends the whole night puzzling over it, but finally cracks it and leaves it for him to find.  Aaron does at least have the decency to seek her out, abashed and ready to make peace – it’s a turning point in his opinion of her.  There are many scenes like these where Judith and Aaron clash, but come away having learnt more about the other and, paradoxically, having drawn closer to one another.

Grete, on the other hand, is a much weaker character: I mean weaker mentally – the picture Durrell paints of her is still as vivid and real as it is with Judith.  Grete has also been through a terrible time and has been separated from her child, but unlike Judith she cannot seem to survive on her own.  She needs propping up by the men around her; luckily for her she is beautiful and attracts not one but two potential and very different lovers.  She easily becomes hysterical and finds it hard to cope under pressure.

She does have her moments where she fights back, challenging immigration officials or turning her (German Nazi) ex-husband over to the Jews in order to get her child back.  But at other times it’s as if life has overpowered her to the point where she simply gives up and allows her men to shape her future; she is not at all interested in fighting for the future of Israel, much to the annoyance of her Jewish lover David.  She was a bit of a puzzle to me and I found her hard to figure out, but I actually think that that is a testament to the depth of Durrell’s writing: his characters, especially his female characters, interestingly, are not one-dimensional but complex and made up of a mixed bag of characteristics.

It’s intriguing to discover that the film version of Judith leaves out the more intellectual Judith’s story entirely and morphs her into a simplified version of Grete: a victim confronting her evil husband.  No wonder Durrell wasn’t best pleased with the final script.

I thought that Judith was well worth reading and I’d have no hesitation in recommending it to you.  I’d be really interested to hear from anyone who’s read other novels by Lawrence Durrell and what you thought of them; I’m keen to read more by him now, perhaps his Alexandria Quartet which I believe is his best-known work.

Judith will be published on 13 November 2012 and you can buy it from Amazon here.  Thanks to Open Road Integrated Media for my ebook copy.

Persuasion

If you’ve read my Classically Challenged introductory post, you’ll know that I’ve already planted my feet squarely in the romantic camp.  I love Persuasion for so many reasons!  I’ll take you through a few of them…

First point: every time I read Austen I’m always charmed by her lightly mocking humour.  This novel begins by introducing the reader to Sir Walter Elliot: a vain and pompous man who thinks far too much of titles and class.  Austen’s is a very subtle wit, but the way she ever so gently pokes fun at Sir Walter’s skewed values, as well as those of Mary and numerous other characters (deservedly so), stood out even more for me on a second reading than on the first.

I do appreciate though that it can seem a slow start for a first-time reader to be presented with Sir Walter sighing over his family tree in the very early pages.  I can’t remember what I thought first time round, but this time I wasn’t at all fazed as I was sustained by the knowledge of the brilliance to come.  If you’re thinking of picking up Persuasion, I feel I ought to warn you not to form too early an impression of Austen until you’ve realised what she’s trying to tell you about Sir Walter.  Don’t worry – the penny drops pretty quickly!

Secondly I need to talk about Anne: the book’s heroine.  A reader’s first impression of her is of a shy, retiring type, too paralysed by embarrassment and etiquette to be able to approach Captain Wentworth, the man she still loves.  Seven years prior to the date the novel is set, Anne and Frederick Wentworth were secretly engaged to be married, but Anne was persuaded by her friend Lady Russell that it would not be a good match for either of them, and so she broke it off.  Now the two former lovers, thrown into each others’ social circles once more, are initially unable to get past this terribly awkward situation of past intimacy and present estrangement.

At first it’s easy to simply pity Anne and wish that she would speak out more, yet as you read on you become acquainted with her sweet, self-sacrificing nature, mixed with surprisingly strong opinions, which are aired only to her close friends when passionately moved to speak.  She is a character with honourable principles and a good heart, who wants the best for those she loves even at the expense of her own happiness.  She truly grows on you as the book progresses, even more so to me because I can identify with her.  I’ve always been criticised for being “too quiet”, but when moved to do so I’m not afraid to stand up for what I believe in.

Of course, this character type may not be to everyone’s taste, especially in the modern age of getting exactly what you want; who on earth waits for the man of your dreams to be slowly won over by your true nature anymore?  You just go out and get him yourself, right?  I’ll leave that one open to discussion…

Moving on, the strong sense of place is another great reason to love not just Persuasion, but any of Austen’s novels.  She has a gift for capturing the details of everyday life with its small, personal triumphs and trials, and allowing readers, whatever century they are from, to believe that they are a part of the story and part of her characters’ lives.  The characters are like people we know and the social setting, although in some ways totally different to our own, is described in such a way as to allow a reader to gain a complete understanding of the time through her characters’ interactions.

Finally, although I do hate spoilers, I must just mention the ending!  I’m notorious for not being entirely satisfied with the endings of novels, but Persuasion’s conclusion is one of my favourite endings in literature, modern or classic.  As you approach the end of the novel, Anne’s character has (unless you have a heart of stone) become so dear to you that you feel genuinely delighted by her happiness (oh come on, we all know it has a happy ending).  I even went so far as to clap my hands and grin gleefully around the room – luckily I was at home with only MrBrontëSister to roll his eyes at me.  I’d love to go on (and on and on) about the ending but don’t dare for fear of spoiling it for anyone who I’m at the point of talking round to reading it.

I’m very pleased that Simon and AJ of the Classically Challenged challenge also loved the novel – hooray!  A great start to their experiment in reading more classic literature.  Click on their names above to read each of their posts on Persuasion.

Next on the Classically Challenged schedule is The Warden.  I’m still waiting for my copy to come crashing through my letterbox (courtesy of AJ Reads) and can’t wait to get started on it.

Leave a comment if you’re participating in Classically Challenged and, whether you are or not, do tell me what you think of Persuasion!  If you’ve already started The Warden, what are your initial thoughts?

However, I found myself drawn to the teenage vampire at the centre of this novel: prince of the vampire kingdom, Kaspar.  He’s so spoilt and arrogant that he becomes a deliciously irritating yet interesting villain at the beginning of the novel, then as we read on and we realise how deeply he buries his true feelings, and the reason he has for hiding them, he becomes much more sympathetic, even endearing.  There’s nothing like a villain with a heart, especially if he turns out not to be the villain at all.  Violet, the other main character, is a human captured by the vampires after being in the wrong place at the wrong time: she is feisty and more than a match for Kaspar, even if I didn’t find her quite as sympathetic for some reason.

Overall I thought the novel had a good story and well-drawn characters.  I’d like to say that it stuck me as having an original plot, but not having read much vampire-related literature (i.e. I’m basically comparing this to Dracula) I can’t really comment.  If you like novels which involve a quest, and you enjoy Twilight and the like, then this is the book for you – in fact I should say the series for you, as Dinner With A Vampire seems likely to be the first of a set.  I feel quite safe in saying that the novel is likely to become a bestseller.  I wasn’t in complete raptures over it – I liked it but I wasn’t in love with it – but you should take into account that even though I’m not really the target audience for this book, it still managed to win me over enough to recommend it to the right reader.

Do you want to know what really impressed me about the book?  The writer, Abigail Gibbs, is just 17.  A book written and published by the age of 17!  She originally wrote the story on writing site Wattpad, a place where writers can share their scribblings with other writers and readers, get feedback and build an audience if they’re good enough.  The Dark Heroine, according to my review copy, received 16 million views and huge support from the site’s readers and writers.  I had in fact already read the first chapter of the novel on Wattpad maybe a year ago and was struck by how good the opening was.  While the writing isn’t the best, and in places leaves room for improvement, I can’t wait to see how she develops her craft in future novels.  There’s a lot of potential here…

Wherever you fit in on the classics scale, you might be interested to know about a read-along which has been started up by Simon Savidge of Savidge Reads and AJ of AJ Reads called Classically Challenged!  The basic concept is that these two book lovers felt that they were missing out on some well-loved literature and decided to challenge themselves to read books by six classic authors: Jane Austen, Anthony Trollope, Charles Dickens, Edith Wharton, Thomas Hardy, and George Eliot.

The first book in the read-along is Jane Austen’s Persuasion – one I’ve read before (I’ve devoured every Austen novel) and loved, so I was more than up for giving it another go!  The actual books were chosen by Simon and AJ’s readers via blog comments, and I was surprised but delighted that Persuasion was chosen over Pride and Prejudice – I love both but Persuasion has the most magical ending imaginable…

The beautiful cover of my copy of Jane Austen’s Persuasion

So I’ve started reading it today, and am happily settling into the world of the Regency period.  If you fancy joining me, you have until the end of the month to read it – plenty of time!  Check out Simon’s or AJ’s blog for more details.  I’m not sure whether an online discussion group is planned or anything like that, but the two record book-related podcasts which you can download so I assume they will be discussing the books that way at the very least.  I’ll also post my own review once I’ve finished the novel and will be more than happy to discuss it!

The next book will be Anthony Trollope’s The Warden, which I was lucky enough to win a copy of, courtesy of AJ Reads (yes they do competitions too!) which I can’t wait to start having never read any Trollope before.  My mum has been on at me for years to read the series so she will be very happy…

The Warden by Anthony Trollope

Will you be joining me in bringing a few more classics into your life?

Shakespeare’s Restless World

I found this to be an extremely accessible and very enjoyable discovery of the Elizabethan and early Stuart age of Shakespeare and his theatre-going audience.  MacGregor shows us objects dating back to this period – objects which would have been instantly recognisable to the people of the time – and uses each one to expand on a particular theme.

For example, we might find a photograph of an elegant and extravagant Tudor fork, excavated from the site of the Rose Theatre.  By examining how the fork was made and who would have used it, MacGregor also shows us what the Elizabethans would have been snacking on when they watched one of Shakespeare’s plays.

Alternatively we might be asked to examine early sketches of the flags James VI of Scotland, having also become James I of England, was considering in order to demonstrate the union of England and Scotland: a huge issue of debate at the time.

Or we might look at a long-lost rapier and dagger, carried by every fashionable gentleman in Shakespeare’s day, which hint at what was the equivalent of Elizabethan “knife crime”.  I thought it was a clever way to get to the heart of each of the book’s themes.

Left hand dagger, English, around 1600. Found at the Thames foreshore. From the Royal Armouries Museum, Leeds.

You can simply dip in and out of this book and its enticing pictures if you want to, but I read it cover to cover over five days.  I learnt a lot about Shakespeare’s contemporaries and found hidden depths within his plays which would have been obvious to an Elizabethan audience but which have become obscure today.  I found the book’s content fascinating and I’m quite tempted to pick up my school copies of Shakespeare again.  Highly recommended.

The other explanation for being out of action is my recent visit to North Wales’s Gwydir Castle: the setting for the rather wonderful Castles in the Air by Judy Corbett, which I reviewed a few months ago.

Castles in the Air

In the book, Judy describes how she and her now husband Peter discovered, bought and saved this  Tudor castle from a terrible fate as a disco.  Today the building has been lovingly restored and while it is the couple’s home, it is also open to the public, for wedding hire or for a very small number of B&B guests.

If you read my review you’ll know that I loved the book, and being a romantic at heart (in the original sense of the word) I desperately wanted to visit it.  Mr Brontë Sister, being a romantic in both senses of the word, went one better and booked us in to actually stay there for two nights!  Needless to say I was excited…

When we arrived (we were the only guests during those two days), we were greeted by Judy and led through the huge gate, past the courtyard and into the castle, up a creaking staircase and into the King’s Room.  The atmosphere in the place is amazing and you truly feel the history oozing from every surface – the bedroom featured a four-poster bed, a tapestry on the wall, and antique furniture dotted around.  Honestly, after being shown the grandeur of the room I was a little worried it and we would be on show to the public the next day!

A detail of the castle seen from the courtyard

Gwydir Castle is apparently one of the most haunted locations in the UK, but I can report that we saw no ghosts.  I couldn’t have dreamt up a more perfect setting for one though. At night, with rogue floorboards creaking into an otherwise deathly silence with pitch black darkness all around, it’s easy for your mind to turn to the supernatural.  So easy in fact that someone made us sleep with the light on…

Anyway, atmospheric, beautiful, timeless… that’s Gwydir.  I wasn’t intending to write a full travel review (i.e. I won’t go on or this will be a boringly long post) but I felt I had to share.  Being queen for two days and eating breakfast in a panelled room with views out over the grounds was very special.  We had a lovely time and we’ll definitely be back.

Our view of the castle grounds from the breakfast parlour

We didn’t take many photos as you can’t help being struck by the fact that this is more of a home than a house open to the public (even though it’s that too).  We couldn’t have been made more welcome, but we tried to be sensitive to the owners’ wishes too.  All the photos here are from the castle’s website – click here to visit it if you’re interested in more info and photos, or to buy any of Judy’s books.